


End of the Night

by Jeska



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Biting, Dark, M/M, Seduction, Vamplock, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeska/pseuds/Jeska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(drabble, tumblr prompt)</p><p>After brushing off a very dark Sherlock's advances, John learns the price for saying no to a creature like Sherlock Holmes.</p><p> (I've extended it now! Just a grouping of little bites of story tied together for fun. Kind of dark and going to be naughty. May put in warnings later. Let me know what you think, if I should or not.)</p><p>Original Prompt: "I would love to kiss you. The price of kissing is your life. Now my loving is running toward my life shouting, What a bargain, let's buy it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm not exact with the prompt... I'm using it as inspiration. I think I liked how it went. Like maybe too much so. Gahhhh..... Stupid shiny plot bunnies.

“Damn you,” I hissed at Sherlock as he pushed me into the wall with such venom that it tasted bitter on my own tongue. My breath was coming out in a heavy pant, feeling overly hot in my jumper. He hovered over me, his hand on the wall above my head. He was near a foot taller than me, or at least it felt like it. His grin was wicked, his deep green eyes sparkling with a million other colors and emotions. They practically flickered with power, a power he held over me. 

“I think it's fair, don't you?” He offered me in a charming tone. I could only see the flash of his almost too bright white teeth as he spoke, his face shaded in darkness. His lips were perfectly shaped into a sugary sweet bubble gum pink smile of evil. “It's a nice little trade.”

I tried to push away from him again but he was far stronger than me. Suddenly his leather gloved covered hand was on my neck, pushing my chin upwards with his thumb as his face lingered only an inch above my own. I gasped, feeling myself go red with the sheer proximity of it all. “No.”

“I would love to kiss you,” he said through clinched teeth, his tone somewhat teasing with darkness. His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, pursing it open slightly. My heart skipped a beat. “The kiss is the price for your life.”

“What a bargain,” I grunted at him, my fingers tightening around his coat uselessly as I struggled against Holmes. My back pressed all the more against the darkened hallway corridor. 

“I say you take it,” he breathed against my lips. His nose touched my own, his skin seductively soft. “it's not a deal you'll get again, love.”

“Go to hell,” I ripped my head away and tried to duck under his arm. I managed to get my back off the wall but only to feel myself being shoved up against the bricks again, this time with my stomach pressed against it instead. 

“Oh, John...” he chuckled darkly, moving his mouth to my ear. I could feel every seething inch of him against my back, his temperature extremely hot. “Oh, John,” my name turned into a growl as the fingers of one of his hands touched my ass. His other hand had my wrists pinned above my head. “I'm so disappointed in you John. How boring. How predictable. I would have loved to carried on an affair with you as a human for a while. Let it play out for a while. You could have delayed your pain, your servitude. Because that's what you'll be by the end of tonight. You'll be my slave. You will be mine to control and a kiss will be the least detestable thing you do for me.”

“No!” I snarled at him as his hand moved to my collar. I struggled without any hope of real movement. There was no means of escape. “No, Sherlock, don't do this!”

His lips were like silk against my neck, hot tendrils of his breath sliding over my flesh in waves as his free hand went up over my stomach, underneath my sweater. His tongue slid out over my pulsing vein, teasing the spot. “I will do this. And you will enjoy it.”

I pressed my forehead against the bricks as a cry of pain echoed from my throat, Sherlock's teeth dug deep into my flesh. Dizziness swept over me but his strong hands kept me up. I cried to God and told him to go to the Devil until my head fell back against his shoulder. His hand was still pressed against my stomach, pressing me against his chest. My legs were useless.

His voice was like honey and sex, dripping from his lips like rubies and diamonds. His eyes were galaxies of wonder that I could only stare into. I felt like I was completely disconnected from my heavy body. “Sleep, my sweet little slave. For tomorrow you will start a whole new life.”


	2. A New Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo I wanted to write the next night. Yeah, here it is. Just a bit of it. Excuse my writing. It's shite lol

When I woke up I felt as if I weighed a million pounds heavier than the day previously. My neck ached with a sharp stab, though almost all of my body did. But my neck was the worst part. My legs were cold and bare, my trousers gone somewhere. I wiggled my white sock covered toes to get some feeling back into them. When I stretched out my arms above my head I could feel the roughness of my wooly jumper against my skin. My eyes came open last. When they popped open fully I took in my surroundings which seemed to glow in almost too much bright enchantment.

I sat up right away, taking in every single scent and sight that swirled around my body. I was in an old musty room in an old fashioned wooden canopy bed like my Gran had when I was a child. She would tell me that it was her grandmother's from when Victoria was queen. The curtains that hung from it were sheer and black. They fluttered eerily in the wind that came from an open window. It was raining outside, the smell cold and salty. 

A rich musical sound echoed over the melodious thumping of the rain on the roof and pavement, surprising me. It was gorgeous and it made me smile as I looked around for it, like a child looking for the source of the ice cream man's song. It took me a few moments to realize that it was Sherlock laughing across from me in a lounge chair. I automatically jerked backwards, scrambling to the top of the bed near the pillows, resting on my haunches. 

“Oh, do stop that,”he laughed still in quiet amusement. “You'll ruin the bed. It's an antique, you know. I've had it since I was a young. Oh, 1880 or so? I don't remember.”

I blinked over and over again, my fingers itching to find something to grab onto for strength and support. I began to panic though, a beating so hard in my chest that it reverberated throughout my entire body. It pounded and pounded until it felt as if my eardrums were going to burst. I grabbed his head, crying out in agony. 

“John, that's your heart. Oh, they always like to say that we've got no heartbeat and we run cold when it's the exact opposite. It runs a million miles an hour, our hearts I mean, well... not literally but you get the idea. We burn up the blood. That's why we have to drink. It's a supplement, not a replacement. Why do they think we need it otherwise? Besides, a man can't survive on bread alone. Or rather,” Sherlock stood from his seat and walked over to me, gently stroking my cheek with his soft smooth fingers, “vampire cannot survive on blood alone.”

I was trembling, sweat beginning to form on my violently red skin. Especially around my pounding temples. I tried to calm myself down but he was so close. I remembered the night before far too well not to be frightened of him. 

“You can speak, can't you? I rather liked your testiness before. It would be a shame if you couldn't speak, my lovely Watson,” he brought his hand to my chin and pulled my face closer to his. His eyes were luminously beautiful. I found my hands going up to the wrist that belonged to the hand touching my face. I held on weakly, just trying to keep the world from falling all down around me. “Frightened little rabbit, calm down.”

Instantly my heart began to slow and my head grew heavy with adrenaline spent. I let out a huffing breath, my face falling forward. “How.... did you...?” I was too exhausted it get it all out. It didn't matter. He knew what I was asking.

“Your body is mine. It does what I asks without question.”

“How?” I asked again. My torso swayed forward, my legs no longer supporting my own weight. I fell into the very hot Sherlock, his smell overwhelming in my nose which was pressed against his firm chest. He smelled like fresh laundry and soap, perfectly clean and pure. It was a heady scent. My eyelashes danced over my barely opened eyes as I tired to keep them open all while I became drunk with it. 

“John,” he put one of his arms around my waist and let me fall backwards with a gentle tip of his chest, supporting me now that I no longer could. My head fell back, lifting my chin up high in the air with a gasp. “I can't give away all my secrets yet. I haven't had my fun.”

He nestled me amongst the pillows gingerly like an ill child, my head propped up so I could see him. Holmes moved around the room, wearing only his black slacks and white button down shirt, his feet bare. First, he shut the window and made the beautiful outdoor song become muffled. I missed it instantly, my brain jumping from place to place so quickly that I could barely keep up with all the emotions and thoughts. Then Sherlock lit several long white tapered candles, making me realize that it was dark in the room before. Honestly, at the time it seemed as bright as day to me. It made me realize that I had no idea how long I was out but I had a feeling it was for more than an hour. 

Then he crawled over my stiff body, sitting on my hips. It felt as if he weighed nothing at all. I could feel the fabric of his fine cotton slacks as they slid against my thighs, making me urgently more aware of that fact that I was still not wearing trousers of my own. 

“Oh, frightened little rabbit. Don't be so dismayed,” he cooed, putting both of his hands above my head on the headboard as he leaned over me. “I am no wolf.”

“What are you then?” I asked him, swallowing heavily. 

“What are we? That's the question.”

“Please,” I whispered. “Don't toy with me.”

“Oh, but that is exactly what I'm going to do,” he smiled wickedly. “Mm, think about last night. Think about what I did. Now, tell me... what frightening thing from your nightmares bites it's victims and drinks their deliciously hot blood? Come on, now,” he rocked his hips against me, making me pant in surprised pleasure. He smiled like the cat that ate the canary “Don't be stupid now. You know the answer. I've told you, didn't I?” He teased.

“But, there isn't such a thing,” I murmured to myself mostly. 

“Should I bite you again to prove it?” He asked as he leaned over and kissed my neck like a lover. My skin danced with the sensation. Sherlock laughed again, “so eager for all the new feelings. Young vampires always are. You're a cute one though, I must admit.”

“Piss off,” I managed to breath out though it sounded more like an invitation than an insult even to my own ears. My head rolled to the side without my permission as one of his hands slid over my bare hip. 

“I'm going to love making you beg for it,” Sherlock said against my ear before nipping at it so hard that it drew blood. I hissed through my teeth, my legs jerking but my arms felt pinned to the mattress. “But first, I think we need to feed you up first.”

His excited smile terrified me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this and just want some short steamy little reads with John and Sherlock, send me some prompt ideas. Just words or whatever. I write them up and add them as much as possible :)


	3. Before the Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone gave me 3 prompts and I got 2 of them into this. I'll get the other one in the next bit :)
> 
> Prompts: Sticky Buns and Alexithymia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having sooo much fun with this lol I so dig this Sherlock.

“I'm sorry, you must be starving,” Sherlock said like sugar, overly sweet and just a bit condescending still. He snapped his fingers. The room was so silent after the loud crack that you could hear a pin drop.

And nothing happened. I felt completely awkward waiting for something magical to occur. I'm not sure what I expected. 

A full minute later there was a knock at the door. 

“Oh, please, do come in Ms. Adler,” he called pleasantly. The door opened and on the other side was a nude woman with strikingly pale skin and deep rich brown curls that flowed over her shoulders in waves. She was too thin though, almost all bones, her angles sharp to a point. Her expression was blank, her lips almost nonexistent. The red of her lipstick seemed to be just painted over the thin skin of her mouth. 

Carefully she brought in a tray covered with things; a plate covered with a silver dome, a silver teapot with two tiny cups, a couple of yogurts and spoons as well. She placed it on the table beside Sherlock's chair. 

“Do say hello to John, Irene,” he said in an almost bored tone, pouring himself a cup of something extremely dark and thick. My eyes could not tear themselves off the small slow pulsing beat in the veins of her neck though, even as I took in my surroundings. Despite the perfume that she wore, I could tell instantly she was human. Hunger ripped through my innards and my mouth watered. An animal need took over as I felt a growl growing low in my throat. 

“Good evening, John,” Irene nodded her head towards me, standing beside the table. She didn't seem the least bit moved by the noise. In fact she looked bored more than anything else. 

“Join us,” Sherlock murmured and without a single thought I stood from the bed and walked over to the pair. Instantly I sat at his feet on the ottoman, my movements jerky on numb feet. My eyes though stayed on Irene. He didn't have control over those at least. Or my emotions. “I didn't mean that sort of meal. Not yet, my darling doctor. Oh yes, did I tell you Ms. Adler? He's a doctor as well. Well, not your sort though. Ms. Adler was my psychiatrist for a spell,” Sherlock informed me even though no one asked before turning his attention back onto the woman. “He's an army doctor. Ex-army.”

“Why did you need psychiatrist?” I asked him sarcastically, my mouth running away from me. This made Holmes chuckle darkly. 

“Oh, I didn't. It was just a bit of fun, really. I saw Irene in the window and just had to have her. Went to her for a time. It was enjoyable to be sure. What is it that you diagnosed me with?” Sherlock glanced up at her before taking a tiny sip of his drink. It stained his lips for a moment before his tongue flicked out to wipe it clear. Irene flushed and closed her eyes for a moment. 

“Extreme Alexithymia,” she answered, her voice practically dead. She was willing herself not to show a bit of emotion. 

“Oh, it's not really a disorder, not at this time anyway. That study is constantly changing. It's considered a personality trait, actually. It's the inability to deal with feelings, in yourself and others. The inability to describe feeling. There is usually a lack of ability to fantasize. I've certainly proven that was not the case,” he seemed to realize that he had forgotten something during his animated explanation to me and reached for the tray, lifting the silver dome upwards. “Sticky bun?”

I just blinked slowly, trying to understand his meaning. Sticky bun was not a word you expected to hear out of the mouth of a so called vampire. It sounded like he was speaking another language. 

“No then,” he put the cover back on with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Get something to eat, Doctor. You will need your strength for later.”

“What are we doing later?”

Sherlock just smiled at me wickedly. Slowly I reached over and took one of the yogurts into my hands. Irene offered me the spoon before quickly pouring me a cup of whatever the drink was. It looked a bit like coffee, but not dark enough. It smelled strongly, but so powerfully that I didn't recognize it. It had a slightly bitter twist to it though, the curls of steam rising from the cup. 

“Is this what I would have become, if I had allowed you to take me home?” I asked as I glanced between him and Ms. Adler.

“Actually, Ms. Adler is something unique. Human slave, completely willing and able to do all that I need. She's the first I've had. I quite like her. She gets things done for me during the day. Should have listened to Mycroft years ago,” he grumbled the last part to himself. 

“No more sun...” I muttered to myself, remembering what I now was. Sherlock laughed genuinely.

He wiped his mouth, still cackling with amusement. “Oh please. Do not be so cliche. Of course we can go out into the sun. Well, I don't like when it's uncomfortably hot but that is a personal preference. No. Irene does the things that it bores me to do. The little details in life.”

“And what does she do for you at night?” I snapped, trying to eat yogurt angrily but it wasn't working out very well for me. I bet I looked as fierce-some as an provoked kitten. 

“I do whatever he wants,” Irene answered as she passed John a napkin. 

“She does,” he smirked slightly at me, running his hand over her bare hip. “She makes a pleasant little snack. Perhaps if you're a good boy I'll let you have a taste one day. But not today. No, today you need all that you can get. It wouldn't do to sicken Ms. Adler.”

“I don't want to kill anyone. I've done it before. I hate it, please,” I begged with him, my emotional fear overwhelming. My heart started beating frantically again, panic seeping into my pores. I had no control over my emotions.

“Oh, calm down, little rabbit. I never said anything about killing, did I? Killing is so dirty. No, but we will hunt tonight. Irene, would you be so kind to bring Dr. Watson his slacks, please? Your trousers were filthy. Can't go out like that, now can we?”

Sherlock stood from his chair and stretched his arms as Irene left the room to do her chore. “Why are you doing this to me?” I looked up him, feeling so tiny. 

“Because I wanted you just the way you were and you turned me away because of the way I am. Now, I've turned you into me. Consider it your punishment for a foolhardy decision,” he ran his fingers over my jawline. His thumbnail dragged over my bottom lip. “This is my second choice, but if I can't have you the way I want, this will have to do. I will make you a monster just like me. A perfectly atrocious pair.”

He walked to the door and I felt my body relax just a bit. He slid his fingers over the jamb, glancing back towards me. “Eat some. Drink your chocolate. Clean yourself up. Get dressed. Come down the stairs to me. You have an hour.”

When the door shut behind him I felt my entire body collapse in on itself as if I were a puppet who just had his strings cut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos if you like! Comment if there is a word you wish to inspire me with. I'll update as much as possible. I can't always promise it'll go in the same direction.


	4. Passionate Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next part of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo not with a prompt but I will be doing a little something else the next chapter with another prompt. This is just the in between bits.

My body was my own again and once more hunger taunted me. I rubbed my face roughly, trying to clear away the cobwebs. The tray had been left for me so I lunged forward and finally ate one of the buns Sherlock had offered earlier. It was good, still slightly warm and very goo. The bitter drink was a form of rather spicy hot chocolate. It went well with the pastry. 

I swallowed as I thought about his instructions. I had feeling I had no choice and that it would do more harm than good to fight with him. Besides, it sounded as if we were going out for the evening. There was a possibility for an escape. I just had to play along until then. 

I nearly screamed with fright as I turned on the light of the bathroom that was attached to the room I had been sleeping in. I thought I had seen another person standing there in the space but it was only my own reflection in the mirror. What gazed back at me was a totally new person. 

I looked... twenty five again. My skin was tight and healthy, my hair thick and blond instead of a dull silver. Even my teeth were whiter. I was like a polished up version of my old self. 

Taking off my sweater and underwear, I turned on the shower and slipped inside. It was nearly too much to handle, the pleasure of it all. I felt the water roll down my chest in delicious streams, soaking my hair completely as I put my head back. “Oh, god,” I murmured as I put my hands through my wet hair. I tingled from head to toe. 

I probably spent entirely too much time in the shower, the water running cold finally. Even then I stood there for a while just to experience the sting of the iciness, letting it slice down my back in sharp and painfully delicious torture. 

When I came out of the shower Irene was carefully folding my pants on the bed, having already pulled out a fresh pair of socks and underwear from somewhere. She was still nude and now I was as well. The towel was too small to really go around my hips and cover anything. I decided it was better to walk out than hide. If she wasn't uncomfortable than neither was I. 

“Thank you,” I breathed as she fussed about the room. My shoes were there now as well, nicely buffed. There was also a new shirt. Like the socks and briefs, it wasn't my own. It was just a white button down shirt, plain but quite nice. It looked a bit long though for me. 

“You're welcome. The shirt should fit. The sleeves on this one was too short for Master,” she explained. “And the socks and underwear as well. Is there anything else you require, sir?”

“You don't have to do that with me,” I shook my head, going shyly over to the bed where my clothes waited for me. She passed me my underwear first. I turned my back to her when I slipped them on. She showed no signs of modesty or shame despite the fact that I did. 

“Do what with you?”

“You can't be happy to be here,” I said as I took the socks and sat on the bed, holding the white ball in my hand as I looked over at the fragile little thing. She looked very much like a painted porcelain doll. 

She cocked her head to the side, taking me in with surprised curiosity. “You really believe that, don't you? That I'm unhappy? No. That couldn't be farther from the truth. Here I am free to be what I wish. He takes the control so I don't have to worry about anything. I do as I am told and everything else is arranged for me. Though, I must admit that you're a new and unexpected addition to the household.”

“That's insanity.”

“No, that's the truth,” she said as she offered me the slacks that were mine from the night before. “Sherlock is a good enough man, usually. I don't know why you got under his skin so. But, to my knowledge I don't think he's ever really been denied exactly what he wanted. Why he wanted you, I don't know.”

 

I chewed on her words, thinking about that time before I had become afraid of Sherlock. How I'd come to be attracted to him and chatting with him, learning little details about his life. He was all cheekbones and curls and charm and cool sexuality. We had flirted for a full week before everything changed. He was the first man I had been attracted to since my time at university. 

“He said the price of my life was a kiss,” I told her for some reason. 

She raised one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows, “and you refused him?”

“Yes.”

“You're a fool, then,” she said before she turned and left the room. It wasn't an angry or upset comment. It was just a statement of the obvious in her opinion. Perhaps she was right. 

The shirt was a bit too long but it could be hidden by tucking it into the pants. I slipped on the black and white jumper I had been wearing before going to look at myself in the mirror. My hair was sticking up in every which way so I used my fingers to try to get it back into place. I took in the reflection in front of me, swallowing back some fear. I had to be calm. 

“Hour is almost up,” I heard someone whisper in my ear but I was still alone. I turned, looking around for the source of the noise but I couldn't. I knew who's voice it was and listened to the implied command. 

I slipped out the door of the room and carefully walked down the stairs. Sherlock was waiting for me at the bottom, fully dressed and looking beautiful like a statue. His black denim jeans were achingly tight, his shirt a rich purple. His trench coat hung off him perfectly and there was a cashmere blue scarf around the delicately pale column of his neck. When he smiled at me my heart began to thump loudly again. 

“My, my. Very nice. We could do without the jumper, but ah... It won't be on you long anyway,” he waved off his words. I simply glared at him in response. “Oh, little rabbit, don't give me that look. You should be excited. You're going to drink tonight.”

“I won't hurt anyone,” I told him firmly. My arms felt glued beside me, my fists clinched so that I dug my nails into my flesh. 

“I promise, whomever we find for dinner won't hurt in the least.”

“It hurt me,” I said clenched teeth. 

He came to where I was standing and lorded over me, his hand on my jaw as he brought his nose over mine just so that the tips brushed. I could smell is sweet breath, a tingling sensation raking over my body. “Oh, John. That's because I wanted it to hurt.”

I gasped quietly, just an intake of breath, as his mouth connected with mine. It was just for a moment, the action unexpected. It was bitingly soft, the slow sting of where he kissed my lips burning just a tiny bit. 

“You cannot imagine the pleasure I would have given you, John,” he whispered in my ear, his heat and my own making me feel dizzy. I placed my hands on his chest for balance, his hold on my chin growing tighter. “I would have kissed every inch of your body in slow turn. I would have worshiped you on my knees. I can give joy as easily as I can cause hurt.”

“Sherlock, please,” I said, my eyes pleading with him. 

“Please, what?” He kissed me again, a smile on his lips as he did so. Though my body was stiff still, my hands twisted in the lapels of his jacket. This time the kiss was deeper, harder. His lips were soft, deviously so. When he pulled away, he chuckled darkly. “Oh, you have so many questions, my frightened little rabbit,” he ran a finger behind my ear before dragging it along my chin as he pouted out his bottom lip. “I adore your mouth. Oh John, if you weren't in need I'd have you on these stairs right now.”

I flushed, thankfully that he took a step back. 

“You bastard,” I whispered. 

He barked a laugh, going to the door. “Curse me if you will, but I know your secret.”

“You know nothing,” I growled at him, my body tugging itself forward at his command. He stopped sudden and whirled around so his face was an inch away from my own. “Nothing,” I repeated. 

“You are hard right now. I can smell the scent of your arousal, taste it on the tip my tongue. Make your angry faces, Dr. Watson, but you'd come if I had you on your knees right now. You would beg for my cock. And afterward you would thank me for the experience.”

I spouted the best come back my addled brain could come up with, “fuck you.”

“You'll get your chance to, perhaps,” he chuckled again, unmoved. Holmes headed out the front door of the apartment with me in toe. There was already a taxi waiting for us. “We'll be going to a pub,” he informed me as we got inside. Mindlessly I put on my seat belt. Swallowing heavily, I closed my eyes as we began to move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want dirty talking Sherlock. Can you imagine in Benedict's voice? "You would beg for my cock and then thank me for the experience..." :::faints:::


	5. Just a drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt : menage a trois. Next chapter in the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took longer to get out than I wanted. Got distracted lol

It wasn't a pub I was use to going to. It was in another part of the city that I didn't go to often. Music spilled out onto the streets as the doors opened for us. Sherlock gave me a wicked grin as I came in behind him. Several pairs of eyes turned in our direction as we enter. The expression on their faces, both male and female, were not scared. They didn't realize we were monsters. No, they found us, both of us, attractive. I felt my face flush slightly at the idea of it. 

Sherlock inhaled a deep breath, “oh, that is lovely. Such a nice smell,” he muttered to himself. 

“What are we going to do exactly?” I asked him in a low tone, the heat of so many bodies clawing at my throat. I felt an overwhelming need to drink. My mouth was parched, my tongue dragging along my bottom lip to moisten it. 

“Someone seems keen,” Holmes snickered. I glared at him, simply wanting him to answer the question. “Well, it's very simple, my darling.”

He came up behind me and placed his hand on my chin to force my mouth to the side. Forcefully he kissed my lips. It was, beyond a doubt, the most passionate kiss I had ever shared in front of other people. I felt so exposed, my senses so heightened by his closeness. My hand came up, as if of it's on accord, and knotted with his hair. It was seductively soft, even more silky than his tongue. 

When he pulled away I was dizzy. 

“Wow,” I murmured, swallowing hard. “I don't know what that has to do with the matter.”

Sherlock chuckled, turning my face back towards the crowd. “Do you see that lovely little girl sitting at the bar?”

The woman was breathing heavily, obviously flustered by our public display but she was also aroused by it. Her nipples and flushed skin were proof enough of that. She bit her lip when she realized we were watching and took her drink before slinking off to a booth somewhere in the back. 

“Come with me,” he commanded, taking my arm. We would look like a charming couple to most. That was hardly the case.

“I have no idea what you want me to do or what you're planning.”

“You're going to seduce her,” he whispered huskily into my ear before we reached the table. “Good evening,” he said pleasantly to the girl who flushed furiously. My mouth watered at the idea of her blood, her veins, her beating heart. I had to keep myself from crawling over the table to drink from her. 

“Good evening,” she replied back shyly. 

“My partner and I couldn't help but notice, but you are the most beautiful woman in this bar and you're alone. We both think that is a great shame. My friend is going to keep you company while I go get us all a round of drinks,” he said so confidently that all she could do was bat her eyelashes up at him in wonder. I had the same reaction the first time he spoke to me. 

“Thank you,” she finally stuttered out. He smiled at her kindly, nodding his head before heading off to the bar. I looked around awkwardly, not sure what to do. 

“Come, sit down then,” she said pleasantly.

“Oh, sorry. Yea. Not my usual department,” I coughed out, sitting down as I gave her an awkward smile. “What's your name?”

“Oh, me? I'm Molly Hooper.”

I looked at her for a long second, taking in her features and her smile. I had seen her before. With less make up and different clothes, maybe a pair of glasses. “I know you from somewhere.”

“What's your name?” She looked at me more seriously, like she had just realized the very same thing. 

“John Watson.”

“Dr. Watson?” She nearly croaked, touching her neck. “Oh, goodness. I didn't realize. Oh, wow... you look... you look amazing. Have you lost weight or something? Been on vacation? I mean, not that you weren't attractive before... You were. But, you just... I... oh, I'll shut up now.”

I laughed, “you work in the morgue at St. Bart's. Bless, I'm sorry. It's the lighting, much too dark. It's so nice to see you again, Molly.”

Her reaction was more than a little flattering. I smiled to myself, peering at Sherlock who was talking to the bartender flirtatiously. For some reason I couldn't find the desire to leave the table. I was beyond thirsty and I didn't care who I drank from or even if I had to listen to Sherlock to do so. Suddenly the seducing idea seemed less of a joke. 

I slid in a bit closer, smiling at her now. “You are lovely, Molly. Sherlock wasn't wrong when he said that you were the most beautiful girl in the bar.”

“Thank you,” she stuttered furiously as blood filled her cheeks. Oh, she was a blusher and I found myself enjoying it greatly. “Is he... your... what did he say? Partner. I didn't realize that you were gay. I thought you had a wife.”

My bubble deflated a little bit as I thought about my wife. “I'm not. Sherlock is...,” I shook my head, unsure of the answer. “My wife, Mary, died last year.”

“I'm so sorry,” she frowned, holding her now almost empty drink in her hand. 

There was no response that was really appropriate for that. You couldn't say that it was okay, because it wasn't. I didn't want to thank her either. I didn't want to be pitied. I never did. Neither did Mary.

A moment passed awkwardly before Molly cleared her throat and smiled once again up at me, “well, if you're not gay... what was that kiss?”

“Isn't it possible for a man to be attracted to both men and women?” Sherlock asked as he arrived back with three drinks. Brandy for me, a scotch for him, and he had another one of whatever the pink thing Molly was drinking. He slid in at the other side of the booth and sat next to her. He drape his arm carelessly over the back, looking like the master of the bleeding universe. 

“Oh yes, it's very possible,” Molly answered him in a weak whisper, gazing at him unabashedly. But for all of his show I could tell that Sherlock didn't really care for Molly. He didn't like her admiration. She would have done anything he wanted and it made him bored.

As I thought this Sherlock nodded his head, almost as if it could hear what I was thinking. For all I knew, he could. 

“By the way, the name is Sherlock. Drink your drink, little dove,” he cooed at her, pushing the new glass towards her. I knew that it wasn't laced with anything. That wasn't his style. I didn't know how I knew that, but I did. 

I took a sip of my brandy, enjoying the burn. But it wasn't what I wanted. 

“So, are both of you... um... bisexual? Is that the right term? I don't want to offend either of you,” she said as she picked up the glass. She drank it in one swig. Sherlock gave a wave of his hand and another drink appeared within a minute. 

“I suppose the term for John would be bisexual. I do consider myself a pan-sexual though,” Sherlock cocked his head to the side, taking in the conversation with amusement. “It means that I'm open to sex in all it's forms. I don't care how love comes, as long as it does.”

The whole thing seemed obscene with the way he said it, his voice deep and smooth. Molly's heart actually sped up, thumping so loud that I could hear it over the music, the scent of her arousal wafting though my nose. I swallowed hard and looked away, trying not to feel so drunk with emotions. My head practically swam with it. 

“Little dove, John is shy... I think you should kiss him.”

“Oh?” She murmured as she bit her lip. It was so obvious that she wanted to do it but she didn't want to seem easy. She was putty in Sherlock's hands though. He was the Master and she easily bent to his will. 

“Yes, but first,” he leaned in and kissed her mouth delicately, lifting her chin with a single fingers beneath. Her eyes grew heavy as she pulled away, a smile on her lips. “Now, you should kiss him.”

Molly was drunk, whether it was on the drink or Sherlock, I couldn't tell. She leaned in without question, kissing me happily on the mouth. I wound my fingers in her hair and kissed her with equal vigor, sliding my tongue against her own. My other hand slid down her skirt covered thigh, finding Sherlock's hand doing the same thing. 

Somewhere in the back of my head I knew what we were doing was wrong, but the part in me that was in control was telling me to seduce this girl and drink her in. I would have done it in the middle of the pub if I could have gotten away with it. My puppet master seemed to know this, leaning in to whisper to us both. “Molly, my dear, take us both to your flat so we can take you to bed.”

I pulled back, looking at him and trying to figure out the curious way he said that. Molly's eyes were half lidded and glassy with desire. She looked between us, nodding her head slowly. 

Sherlock was up in a second, helping her to her feet. He slipped an arm around her waist after she slipped on her coat and grabbed her handbag. Automatically, I followed the pair, my hand on the small of her back. A taxi seemed to be waiting for us, ready to take us to Molly's home. She gave the address and leaned back against the leather seat sliding a hand on both Sherlock's knee and my my own. He leaned in, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. She eagerly leaned into him, her hand sliding down my thigh as she did. Sherlock's hand slid across my shoulder as he moved in closer to Molly. 

I had never been in a menage-a-trios before, though I had been drunkenly offered while in Uni I had never accepted. Now I was being pulled into one. I had no control over my thoughts or my body, so deep in the fog that came from the idea of the joy that I would be diving head first into as soon as we were somewhere private. Who this person was didn't matter to me. I didn't care that Sherlock was in control and I was okay with that. I wanted it. I needed him to take control. 

The drive was acceptably short and we guided the now very drunk Molly up the stares to her tiny flat. As soon as the door was locked behind us, she jumped on top of Sherlock. Literally. She wrapped her arms around his neck and twisted her legs about him as if he were a stripper pole. He laughed loudly, his jacket hitting the floor before he put his hands on her ass to keep her from falling to the floor. Holmes walked her over to the couch, sitting her down in the middle. He crooked his finger at me, summoning me to her side. 

I sat next her, brushing my fingers along her arm. She turned towards me quickly, kissing me now with sweet little moans humming in her throat. Sherlock was removing her shirt, exposing all of her neck. 

“Molly, John is going to kiss your neck,” Sherlock said, getting Molly's attention. She looked directly into his eyes and nodded her head, allowing it to lull to the side for me lazily. “Taste her, John. She is yours.”

That was all I needed to hear. There were no thoughts in my head as I leaned in, kissing her delicate throat. I lapped and tasted, teasing the nape for just a moment. Then I nipped, eliciting a moan of pleasure and a small river of blood that dripped directly into my mouth. I suckled like a baby, drinking a new kind of milk. My hand slipped around the other side of her throat, holding her firmly in place. 

“I could come watching you do that,” Sherlock whispered directly into my ear but he was no where near me. I was drunk, flushed and dizzy with pleasure. I growled, wanting to bite deeper and take more. If a little was good, a lot was better. “No. No, little rabbit. You have the right idea right now. Just a little. You don't wish to hurt her, then you keep going the way you are right now.”

The stream was slow but steady. If I had to guess I had drank about a pint before a hand pushed me back forcefully. 

“Done now,” he smiled before leaning in to kiss my mouth eagerly. I thirstily returned it, still in a flurry of desire. I was practically blind with it. When we pulled apart I realized that Molly was now passed out on the couch, her head lulled in a totally different position now. My brain spun, trying to find some purchase and finding none. I could feel the liquor that had been in Molly's system in my own.

“Fuck, is she okay?!” I asked stupidly, making Sherlock laugh. 

“She's fine, Doctor. She's had a few drinks and now she's had a bit of blood loss. Here,” he licked his thumb and wiped the blood from the wound. But then there wasn't a wound anymore. I opened up my mouth to ask a question but no noise came out. “She'll have a sick day tomorrow. Then she'll be just fine day after. She'll have thought she caught a bug. She might not even remember last night.”

He stood from the couch and flung her over his shoulder, her body limp like a rag doll. I felt rooted to the couch as he put her to bed, sitting like an impatient child. He even took the time to change her into a pair of pajamas. I didn't move until he came out and retrieved his jacket from the floor. 

Once again the taxi was waiting for us. We rode back to Sherlock's home in silence until we stopped right in front of the red door that was his. He passed the driver a wad of money before sitting back and gazing at me with hunger dancing in his eyes. “When we get inside you will strip to your underwear. I will use you in any way I desire. Go in, now.”

I didn't have time to answer before my body moved itself out of the cab and towards the door. My clothes began to hit the floor before it finished closing behind me. Irene was waiting in the foyer, watching with a mild expression of pleasure at the sight of me stripping. It wasn't entirely kind.

When I was fully undressed I turned to see Sherlock watching, his coat being put away by Ms. Adler. His scarf remained, hanging loosely around his shoulders. 

“All the supplies you asked for earlier have been arranged, Master,” she told him sweetly. 

“Excellent. That's all for now. Please, go to your quarters until you are called,” he didn't even look at her as he dismissed her. She pouted at this but he waved her off with a glove covered hand. She padded off like an angry puppy. He didn't speak until she was gone, watching me the entire time with ravenous eyes. “Oh, John... John, I'm glad you've drank. You look so much better. You've got your strength now. That's wonderful because John, I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk. It's your choice whether you enjoy it or not, I don't care either way.”

I gasped loudly as his glove covered hand slid tediously slow over my hard cloth covered cock. He ran his tongue over my Adam's apple and over my chin, kissing my mouth roughly, possessively. “I'm going to ruin you, Dr. Watson.”

I didn't own my body but a shiver ran down my spine that was all mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oOoO who wants to see what happens next? Send me some more prompts and we'll see what dirty direction it goes :9

**Author's Note:**

> If you like the Vamplock, let me know. I could for sure write some more drabbles with them. I find them very sexy and I can see it getting very dirty. Let me know if you have anymore ideas. I'm on tumblr, by the way. Just look for Jeska!


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